Pitman Tom

Lyrics

Well I know of this little old gadgie You can call him Pitman Tom With lots of bairns and an indomitable thirst How could the bugger go wrong? Not so tall, bow-legged an' all He looked a little bit frail But stick a tanner in his pocket And he was ready for his ale

He was down the pit at the age of nine His brother carried him to work And the first thing he could remember Was sitting in the dark Now the coal dust made him thirsty And inspired him to verse So he sold his songs so that all night long He could satisfy his thirst

His glory was his pen His muse was a mug of ale His wit was as sharp as a knife in the dark How could the bugger fail? His legs were made of rubber His hands were made of clay His throat was made of sawdust But his words were made to stay

One day he went to the co-op But ended up in Durham Gaol He nicked a pair of stockings And the judge refused him bail He said "Tom why did you nick 'em?" And he answered in reply "I'll never see another pair of bow-legged leggings Until the day I die"

His glory was his pen His muse was a mug of ale His wit was as sharp as a knife in the dark How could the bugger fail? His legs were made of rubber His hands were made of clay His throat was made of sawdust But his words were made to stay

But now the bugger's gone And buried in his grave And all the folks from 'round about Never recognise his name But if he was alive today He'd write them all a song About that silly old gadgie By the name of Pitman Tom

His glory was his pen His muse was a mug of ale His wit was as sharp as a knife in the dark How could the bugger fail? His legs were made of rubber His hands were made of clay His throat was made of sawdust But his words were made to stay

His glory was his pen His muse was a mug of ale His wit was as sharp as a knife in the dark How could the bugger fail? His legs were made of rubber His hands were made of clay His throat was made of sawdust But his words were made to stay